


Marked

by poetdameron



Series: Jonerys Week 2017 [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cunnilingus, F/M, Jonerys Week, Mild Sexual Content, Past Abuse, R plus L equals J, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, mentions of past relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/pseuds/poetdameron
Summary: Marks are not for bastards but Jon Snow had been born with one right on his chest, where anyone could see the three headed dragon. Daenerys Stormborn had been born, like all princesses, with a mark, hiden between her legs, on her right thigh. Why was her mark a wolf, she couldn’t understand.





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> My computer crashed last night and it took a while to get her to work again. I got it back a couple of hours ago, but was busy with family dinner and so, and so, and that's why this is being posted so damn late.
> 
> Yet, I'm happy I got to share this piece. I really liked it. And as for the day I lost *sighs*, I'll post it tomorrow or later today, I still have to revise that story. But I will post it, I promise!
> 
> This was wrote for Jonerys Week, Day 6: Soulmates.
> 
> Last, if you have tumblr and you liked this, please support me by reblogging the [original post](http://anythingforyoudoll.tumblr.com/post/165885523314/marked-jonerys-got-fic-jonerys-week)!
> 
> EDIT: I corrected some errors the story had, some awkward wording and dialogues. I'm sorry for those who had to read it before that!

**Marked**

Bastards are born without a mark, that Westeros thought. But Jon Snow was sure it wasn’t truth for he had been born with a mark that slowly became darker, letting see the house his Destined One belonged to.

He knew of noble and recognized people with no marks, too. Sansa did not have a mark and she was no bastard, just like Bran didn’t had one and was no Snow. His Aunt Lyanna had been born without mark, no bastard either, and was loved by everyone that still mourned her premature death.

So his mark was proof of nothing. He was still a Snow and would die one, and always alone for his mark was long dead and has been pointed out before, it was fitting for him to be marked with the three headed dragon of the Targaryen house, for nothing was for him and no one will be.

Lord Father convinced him to not care for the mark, it was no indicator of nobility or happiness, just a guide. An option. While his sister Sansa resented him and Arya for their marks, Bran did not care, and Robb was not sure what his meant. Rickon had been too little to have recognition of his, but he had one, too.

And so, he decided to wear black and renounce to The Mark.

* * *

 

All princesses are born with a mark, included Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.

Her brother Viserys had told her all about them, they were marks that displayed her future Prince, a person who would wed her and father her children. She had been given birth with a blurry brownish stain between her legs, on her left thigh where no one but her Lord Husband would see it one day.

Viserys had told her his mark was special for it was the Targaryen sigil and it meant he was made to rule, although she had never seen it. She had listened to all of it, that bastards don’t get marks and those who are recognized and don’t have one, are destined to die at young age and she worried for the other children without marks she knew.

As she grew older, the stain started to take form, becoming darker and part of her skin, like engraved by an expert artist until her brother had opened her legs to found it as she had denied him to see.

“Stupid girl!” Was the first time he laid a hand on her and he never stopped since.

Daenerys didn’t understand why her brother had wanted to know her mark, it was supposed to be private and only for her husband to see. But he had became rage and fire the second he saw, and so she looked at it after he had left her warm and red in their refuge.

“No...” And she finally saw.

She saw the sigil of the Usurper’s Dogs, a wolf howling in her skin. How could life want her with the monsters that had destroyed her family? Was she made to be in pain, to be taken and defiled by Westeros forever? All she ever wanted was to go home.

To go home, wherever that red door was now.

* * *

 

In The Wall most men had no mark and Jon decided to hide his own, having a new life between brothers that dressed the same as him and responded to the same honor. It had costed him to get used to the great difference between the warm furs of his bed in Winterfell and how he got to sleep in here. But he wouldn’t change it, he didn’t wanted to.

So, he won’t have a mark.

“But you have one.” Sam insisted as they cleaned the tables, Jon shook his head. “You know what I would give to have one?”

“Why do you want one?” He asked. The mark had only brought more cruel jokes his way than anything, and the more he thought of it, the less he liked the concept of it. “It’s just… why would you want your entire life to be dictated by something so insignificant?”

“Well...” Sam had stopped cleaning, looking up as if thinking his answer. “It’s just-- It must be nice to know there may be someone for you at some point.” He smiled at him and Jon shook his head again. “Think about it. You don’t have to make your life all about the mark, but it’s nice… you know, Jon. To know.”

Jon blinked a couple of times. The last person to know what his mark was had been his Father’s wife and she had offered the only explanation of it, that he did not have anyone at the end, for all people but one too old and marked differently were left of House Targaryen.

If he said word to Samwell Tarly about it, would his friend finally see the marks may not mean as much as people want them to? Would he stop all talk about it with him? Sam liked to talk, that and to read where the things he was best at, and Jon wouldn’t deprive him from one of the only two things he has left.

He stayed silent, until his friend asked to know what his mark was. Was it a great house? Or a minor one? An unknown symbol or words like for very few people? Jon had always carry the sigil of his family’s enemy on his chest, there where anyone could see. How he managed to maintain it away from his brothers, he was not sure.

“It’s the Targaryen Sigil.” He said.

Sam stood quiet, big eyes wide open and his mouth in a O. It almost made him smile if not for the bittersweet flavor in his tongue. He kept his work and soon saw Sam joining him at least.

“It can’t be.” Sam said. “Are you sure of it?”

“I think I can recognize a three headed dragon.”

“Uhm...” He seemed deep in thought, then looked at him again. “Have you heard what Maester Aemon had said?”

“He says a lot of things, Sam.”

“Yes, but he has talked of family at the other side of the sea.”

Jon chuckle, Sam had some imagination. “So what? Sam, we renounced to all that.” He sighed. “Even if that House was still standing today, there’s no one out there for me.”

“You are right.” His friend said after a long pause.

* * *

 

“It may mean you are destined to fight this man forever.” The witch had said before she entered the tend to heal her husband. “People are not only destined to love, they are destined to kill, to hate, to breed, and to so much more. It may be your greatest enemy, your love lais here.”

He had been, and he was long gone. All those she had loved were gone, Drogo, Rheago, Viserys even. He had been cruel to her ever since the House Stark Sigil had cleared in her skin, but he had been still her brother, the only family she ever knew.

At night, when she was alone and dreamed of home, she would see him, younger and happier. He used to smile at her and pick up lemons that would fall from the tree outside her window, they would enter the house in hurry, to the kitchen where the cook would use them to make savored water. Those were happy times, somehow.

They never had money, their protectors could do so much for them. Viserys had to sell their Lady Mother’s crown and that was the end of her happy days. It was like if by renouncing to that jewel, they had renounced to the past she never knew, and since, they were alone.

Maybe that was why he had been so mad at her when he saw the mark, because he didn’t knew what she has been told now. He probably thought life wanted her to wed a traitor and not to fight him, as she would for now on until what was hers was returned and she could free her people from the wheel that kept them in suffering.

Viserys was no king, his mark was his grave for he had died a sad prince of the Targaryen. She and her dragons would be all he never was, Dany decided as she feed her Viserion. Her dragons would help her win every war she’ll had to endure in order to take back what was hers.

And she will fight forever the traitors if necessary. Her mark was one of war.

* * *

 

Ygritte had no mark.

Her warm body was filled with freckles and scars alike, her hair kissed by fire made her shine between snow and fire as they laid together to maintain their bodies away from the cold.

She had seen his mark and mocked it, speaking of how marks meant nothing to her people but weakness. No one belonged to anyone and those that coupled were each other’s choices, he found it better that way for his heart had chose her and wouldn’t let the ghost of a false future intervene between them.

Jon knew what was coming for them, though. That they would no last as he had a mission of his own and an oath to his people. She would never understand such things, but he hoped she would understand that his heart was hers, even if he would stay awake at night, feeling all alone as he always did since he knew the name of the emptiness inside him.

That was what he believed, at least. He fired her apart from the other fallen ones, her hair as precious as the flames around her, keeping her away from the Night’s King.

He wished he could dream of Ygritte, but he knew he wouldn’t. He dreamed he was Ghost, the white wolf running in the woods alone, eyes fixated on the moon, like if he wanted to reach her. She would look down at him and call, _“come to me”_ , and he would run faster.

But he never reached her, she cried for him to come, and he never did.

“Ghost...” He said with his last breathe.

The moon was hovering full in the sky, stars her tears and cold his only company.

* * *

 

Dany dreamed of a young lover every now and then, always covered in shadows but more real than her actual lover, peacefully sleeping in her bed.

She looked at him, deciding if waking him up would be worth it. He was a good lover, better than others she had taken, but nothing else. She wanted to love Daario, had made herself believe she could, but Daenerys had long ago realized there was no such thing as to love one for you are no equal.

He had no mark, while Drogo had her mark at the bottom of his back, where his long braid had reached once. He had thought her that even the most powerful and loved of men could fall, and she was not going to do as well. Not today, not tomorrow. She had a fight to win.

Standing, she put on her silk robe and walked away from the bed, hoping the fresh air of the night would clear her thoughts. Daenerys knew she had to left her lover behind and she felt _nothing_ , the closer it got to that moment, the surer she was that Daario had meant nothing but warm sheets in the big picture.

It made her feel sad. Was she supposed to be ice? She was the blood of the dragon, her touch burned and her realm would prosper from the ashed of the old world; and yet her heart seemed stopped by the conditions of her past, and there was only place for her people, her friends and her children.

Maybe that was her only love, maybe she’ll be fine with that. Maybe the lover in her dreams would remind only in her mind.

* * *

 

Winterfell had been home for a long time, he still thought of its walls and hallways as such. Even in the worst of the days, he had a childhood and siblings in it, a Father that listened to him and tried to make the best for him in his possibilities. And while he had been constantly reminded of his name, he had been seen as nothing but Stark as he always wished to be one by name.

He was no Stark still but called _My King_ and _Your Grace_ , and all those things people won’t call a bastard in normal settings. But he guessed, as he walked around the great salon, touching the cold wood and dusty places he had learned as a child, terrible circumstances called for extraordinary possibilities.

“I never apologized for my behavior before,” Sansa started after a long silence as they stayed alone, sitting on the salon when everyone had left, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t knew better.”

“You were only a child.”

“I was a spoiled, stupid girl.” She said, Jon looked at her and saw that vacant expression she so often wore nowadays.

Sansa wore winter in her eyes, in her lips, her words, her globed hands, her perpetual serious face. The girl made of summer was long gone. She no longer begged the Gods for a mark and a prince that would father her beautiful princesses and princes, maybe she didn’t even believe anymore.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Was all he could offer. “But thank you, little sister.”

He never called her that before, the only little sister he knew had been Arya. But now, they were the only ones. They had each other. Sansa looked at him, no smile, no shine in her eyes, but there were unshed tears in them and Jon swallowed.

“Don’t call me that, Jon.” She asked, sounding like a plea. “That’s Arya.”

Both wished she would be there, that a lot of people could be there. But they were the only ones. Winterfell belonged to her and the North responded to his command. None had wanted this, but here they stood in the best possible scenario due his circumstances.

She took his hand, she often did when she thought she was losing him to the dark thoughts inside his head, and this time he didn’t felt strange nor irritated by it. They didn’t say a word again, and slowly went to their own thoughts.

The dead were walking to them, menacing on taking all they fought for. He could had become one of them but, somehow, his time had been restored even carrying the proof of his end.

Involuntary, his free hand went to his chest, were the mark of his Destined One was.

Ever since the mark had became clear, he never believed in it. He knew Sansa used to believe, hoping to find the one that would carry the Stark Sigil in his body that would belong to her morrows. She was looking at him now, observing the way he had touched where the mark still stood, even with the scar irrupting in its territory.

“Your mark...” She murmured. “I used to think it was strange, I still do.” Sansa said, her honesty didn’t come as a surprise. Everyone who knew about the three headed dragon thought so, included him. “I never asked you, but always wanted to...”

“What is it?”

She squeezed his hand and Jon looked at her, waiting. “Does it bothers you?” She said so low, he wouldn’t had hear her if they weren’t sitting side by side. “The mark of the dragon. It’s almost cruel to give you a mark of someone that may pretty much not exist. Why would— Why would the Gods allow it? You think it’s strange?”

“All marks are strange and a little unfair.” He answered, she tilted her head. “I don’t think it’s fair, the marks. Why wouldn’t you chose the one to love?”

“Well, in your case I guess you can chose.” She said, her eyebrows had moved high. “We, on the other hand, we have no many choices. Not most of us does, at least.” She looked away, and Jon understood her meaning. He swallowed, not knowing how he could assure his sister that she was safe now, she was free to do as she wished with her life for now on. “So, it bothers you?”

“I don’t believe in it.”

“Yet, it’s still in its place. Right?”

Jon blinked a couple of times, Sansa was smiling sightly. Maybe a part of her still believed. But who could deserve his sister? It made no sense.

“Aye, it does.” He answered, for both her questions. She seemed to understand.

* * *

 

Dragonston was covered in dust and gray clouds, even if the sun shone bright when they first arrived. Her children had settle better than all of them, her dothraki almost all sick from the sea and her small council unsure of how to proceed until she called table to all them, having Tyrion present their next move.

Her Hand was a wise man and good company. Dany had learned a lot from him, about Westeros and its remaining Lords, and his mad sister, the Usurper Queen. She understood his plays, she could not fly by and burn all to get what she wanted, it would make her no different from Cersei and she was was to be so much more, to be the hope this people longed for.

No more orphaned children, raped women, stolen lives and starvation. No more blood once she sat on the throne, no more war, just work for peace. Peace for all people. That’s all she wanted.

“Tell me about this Jon Snow.” She told Tyrion as they sat alone in the war room once their Red Priestess guest had been settle in chambers of her own. “Is he as the red witch says?”

“I’ve hear of his accomplishments from her and Lord Varys’s birds, seems to be all true.” He answered. “He joined the Watch years ago, was a stupid boy trying to find his place in the world. Of course he would become King.”

There was a smile in Tyrion’s lips and eyes, whoever Jon Snow was, was someone he remembered with warm. He was a funny man, a good friend. But his smiles were strange, at least the genuine ones. All of them wore better a serious frown and respectful nods. It seemed like there was no time for friends and laughs, but this King In The North had brought a smile to her Hand.

“But he is no Stark.” She said, it was supposed to be a question but it also wasn’t quit so. Dany needed to be assured. “He is the last?”

“His sister, Sansa, is still alive, too.” He answered, finally looking at her. “You won’t tell me you mistrust my judgment now, after how far you have gotten. Their father may have fought against yours, but they will not be your enemy.”

“You appreciate them.” She assured, he only nodded. “So then tell me about them. If you appreciate them, they must be something. Make me see them differently from their father.”

Tyrion sighed, she found it entertaining to frustrate him a bit. He was exactly how she wished a brother would be. “I’ve told you all I know about Jon Snow, your Grace. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Then tell me about Lady Sansa.”

He moved on his seat, sightly uncomfortable and something sparked inside her. “I would prefer not to. All you need to know is that she’s smarter than she looks. She has probably grow to be a beautiful and strong woman, too. You’ll like her.”

Dany nodded at that, taking a sip of her wine. “And would she like me?”

“Well, the last time we saw each other, she had plenty of trust issues, all justified. If all I heard about what she has gone trough is true, she may have her reservations at first.” He made a pause to drink of his own wine, then looked at her. “You’ll see them for yourself, I’m sure. But they are good people.”

“She is the one you were married to, isn’t she?” She asked, the hint of a smile could be heard in her voice.

“Gods...” He drank some more and she couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “She was, the poor thing.”

Dany tilted her head with a smirk. “Did you loved her?”

“No...” He answered, his hand was moving his cup and she wondered how much of this was true and how much was a lie. “She was only a child and I loved another at the time.” He drank the rest of the wine in one, long, gulp and Daenerys sighed, disappointed at how quick they had gone back to betrayals and old sad stories. “All I wanted was to protect her. No one in that nest of rats city would do so, and by having my name, she was a prisoner of my father and sister, and my nephew.” He explained. “But they wouldn’t touch her, as long as I was there… or that was the intention.”

She swallowed, Daenerys couldn’t help but feel sorry for what this girl had gone trough. She had been told her older brother had avenged the stain in her name and took back their home, giving it to her as he was chose to lead the North. If he bend the knee to her, she would give Lady Sansa and Tyrion the head of the woman that had wronged them for so long.

Jon Snow, as painted by others to her, sounded exceptional. And it made her a little bit sad and jealous, to think there were older brothers protecting their little sisters, fighting men that had touched them, when hers had sold her away to a man she had learned to love through what was between her legs.

“Would you marry her again?”

“What?” He looked at her between surprise and amusement. “What are all these questions? Enough wine for you, my queen.”

She laughed, looking as he left his chair and walked over the wine, purring more into his coup and taking the bottle with him, away from her.

“If there’s something else in your head,” Tyrion said as he walked back to his place, “it’s time to say it. You know nothing will leave my mouth, you just say the words.”

 _I have a mark_ , she wanted to say, _It’s the Sigil of House Stark_. Daenerys wondered what would be Tyrion’s reaction. Westeroisi people thought of the mark a sing of love, would he think one of the reminding Stark belonged to her morrows?

“No.” She lied.

 _You’ve said Jon Snow is near my age_ , she could say, too. _What if his mark matches mine?_ But if she do that, she’ll have to think of that possibility and not the one she had chose all those years ago. That she would fight her Destined One, not wed them. But if it was different, if it meant something else— Then— Then…

“Do you have a mark?”

Tyrion looked at her from the corner of his eyes, smirking. “Are we getting this private, now? If I recall, you’ve said that doesn’t matter.”

“So you have one.”

“I may.” He answered. “Just like you may.”

He was not telling her anything. She wondered if they had the same mark, since he had not answered her suggestion of re-marrying Lady Sansa having the opportunity. Or maybe she just wanted him to have it, too, so she would know what to do in case things were different. In case she met her Destined One soon.

* * *

 

The Dragon Queen was warm. Her voice had been filled with steel the first time they met in her throne room, and the smell of blood was everywhere around the green of the grass when he stepped in, waiting for her arrival after she had left in the biggest dragon, the black beast called Drogon.

But she was warm to his touch now that she had been the first thing on his sight when he had woke up after facing death once again. If he had died, it was no doubt heaven would be her face and her voice, and the soft skin of her tiny fingers against his calloused ones.

Jon had wanted to ran from what he had started to feel as he saw her kindness to her people and the way they loved her, their loyalty to a woman who wanted nothing else but to protect them and give them a home.

Soon he realized she had never knew home herself, she didn’t had a place in the world like he had felt for so long as he stood at top of The Wall and then walked beyond it, dressed in snow and smelling of sex for the first time. Like him, she understood what it was to build your own path for no God, no Lord, no nothing will give you one.

All that security and faith in herself was understandable, and a shield from the rocks throwed at her, too. He wanted to lower it, see her face, and now here they were.

Daenerys had been crying, he could see it in the tenderness of her eyes and red of her small nose. All of her was small, but not her spirit, not her wonder, not her voice, not her heart. She had left him after, he figured he had come too strong to her, all this was as new for himself.

He thought he had been in love before, and he had, but not like this. It felt different since the first time he had seen her, sitting still, like painted in silver with rays of gold in her walk and her stand. He hadn't thought her so beautiful, even if the rumors had come to him, but she was covered in moon and winter, like the one Ghost, that was him, followed in his dreams. And she had infuriated him right away.

But now, she was another. Real, more real than anybody has been before to him. She had entered his cabin again the next morning and, this time, she had took his hands and told him all about what he had missed as he slept.

Jon caught her looking at his body, at his chest, and soon he wanted to cover himself or make her close her eyes. But it was too late. Not only had she seen the scars he tried to maintain away from her and anyone in the hopes they would disappear, making all that had happened just a bad dream, but his mark, too. The symbol of her house, of her.

“Is that…?” She was moving her hand to his peck, then stopped and looked at him. “Your mark?”

He nodded, and her hand finally touched it. She traced the circle the dragon’s body and three heads formed, and stopped at the scar, following down to form the half moon it was. Jon said nothing, she soon put her entire palm over his chest, surely feeling the beat of his heart.

“You have a beat...” She looked up at him again, he hadn’t noticed she was now sitting on the bed with him. “I was told… I was told the returned didn’t.”

“The priestess that did it said I was special.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to know more… But she brought me back, and I had the strength to fight again.”

“And you came to me.” She murmured, not looking at his face anymore but at the mark again. She caressed it once more and swallowed visibly. “I’m the last dragon.”

“Aye.”

“I have a mark, too.” Dany was looking at him again, her eyes were shining with too many emotions he wanted to find one by one in the rest of her body, in her lips, in her sighs, in her laugh and her sleep. “It’s… It’s...”

Jon smiled, it felt like the first time he smiled in a very long time, even if he had been doing so around her a lot lately. She didn’t need to say it, he knew. So he took both her hands in his and kissed them, she shivered a little and Jon looked up immediately, hoping she won’t run again.

It must had shown in his face, since she started to shook her head in urgency, a single tear going down her face. “I won’t, I won’t.”

He dried her tear with his hand and hold her near his chest, until she rested her head and weight on his body, and his arms rounded her. She was warm and small, and smelled like everything alive, green and shinning.

Dany didn’t cry again after, they stole a touch or two from time to time, and agreed to sail together to his home.

* * *

 

“What…?”

“Shhh...”

Daenerys could tell him he had no right to shut her, she could tell him to come back and kiss her some more, that all he needed to do was to get inside her and take them into oblivion as their bodies collided deliriously again and again.

She had missed him. Not many nights had passed since they last laid together, but he had been away, consumed by doubt and tragedy. He seemed to live in the shadows, like her dream lover had been, feeding on sorrow until his mind was made and his soul needed to breathe.

This time, though, she had searched for him. Daenerys was tired to just wait and she knew, no matter her Hand’s advice, that he had needed her maybe since the beginning. But that was done now, she could only try and provide comfort to him, let it be as a lover or as blood of his blood.

“What are you doing?” She questioned a little alarmed, no one had kissed her so near her core before, almost were her mark was. Was he searching for it? She had promised to herself to show him soon, but those plans had been ruined by the news that had come.

Come morrow, they were marching to The Wall, back on direction were her precious Viserion had lost his life and returned in the hands of the evil itself. They were going to crush his army and stop him from taking away anything else from them and their people.

But tonight, they had finally get together. His chambers wasn’t as big as a King’s should be, but it smelled all like him and Dany immediately felt safer inside when she stepped in. He had looked at her between surprised and pleased, as she waited for him to talk or let her hold him.

He had put his mind at peace about something he always knew, that Eddard Stark was his father even if he didn’t carry his name and that his mother must had have a reason to not have a place for him. Now he knew that he had been brought to this world in love, and in love for him and his father Rhaegar, his mother had went, leaving him in the care of that he will always call Father.

And he was a dragon, too. She wanted him to embrace that one day aswell. But as Tyrion had suggested, one step at the time.

Right now, she laid on his bed with his head between her legs, kissing her right thigh as his hand opened her wide for his explorations. She had undress him this time, kissing his body as he had kissed hers the first time, and yet he was searching for her pleasure more than he wanted his.

He kissed over her core, not quit touching it, but traveling to her left thigh, slowly filling it with more of his small, wet kisses, until he stopped. Her heart was already beating itself out of her body when she remembered what laid there and she lifted her upper body to see his face.

Jon’s eyes were fixated on her mark, his fingers brushing it as if confirming it won’t fade away. Daenerys swallowed as he slowly looked up at her, asking.

“I was… I told you before, I have a mark.”

“I can see that.”

“What furter proof could you ask for?” She said, smiling at him. A dragon birthed and raised by wolfs, their marks matched their souls and he smiled at her, lowering his face without darting his eyes from hers until his lips touched her skin and she moaned a bit. “What— What are you doing?”

“I’m kissing you, my Queen.” He murmured over her core and his breathe made her shiver, almost closing her legs around his face, but his hands were still holding her open. His fingers opened her folds and her heart beat faster. “I love you.” He said, and before she could answer him, his tongue found her clit and rubbed it softly.

Dany moaned louder than she remembered doing before, she almost wanted to silence herself but when she had stopped, he had lifted his hand, indicating with his fingers to not stop and she would had laughed if it wasn’t for his tongue entering her and making her moan almost in a scream.

He kept pleasing her for what fell like a lifetime until her orgasm came and she had moaning his name loudly.

She hoped he knew she loved him. She loved him so much, she wanted the world to know they had been marked for each other, that he was hers as she was his, and there was no force that would kept her apart from him again.

* * *

 

Dany’s mark was the House Stark Sigil, and his mother was Lyanna Stark. He looked down at his Queen’s round belly and for the first time, hoped the Gods would send them a girl.

“A girl?” She had smiled wide. “Makes sense, I would love to have a daughter and braid her hair, hear her sing, and make her dresses that would match mine.”

“You’ll do that to our daughter.” He said playfully, carrying their oldest as he was learning to walk but had discovered the thrill of running around. “She’ll grow up a beautiful princess, will fight like a knight.”

“I’m sure her aunts would love to teach her tender and teach her stark.” She laughed and Jon smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her forehead, Aemon yelled _‘no’_ and he rolled his eyes, looking at his son who was returning his gaze with a scowl. “Look at my prince, he loves me so much.”

“That’s my wife, little boy.”

“No!” He said again, this time asking for his mother’s arms. Dany laughed, opening her arms to their son.

Aemon could barely speak and was still learning to walk, the way he ran was that of a baby duck, but his love for his Lady Mother surpassed anything else. He laid on his mother’s chest, who looked at him from their bed, the sight inviting him to join them and never leave the bed.

“What name would you give your little sister?” He heard her ask Aemon, he had gone over the vanity to leave the heavy crown and undress for bed. The babe didn’t answer, and Jon smiled as he heard Daenerys laugh.

It was so common nowadays, have her smiling and laughing when they were outside the throne room and the small council. She would walk the streets of King’s Landing holding Aemon with two guards and Missandei at her back, him at her side, crown staying put on her head in elegance and rightfulness, and people would smile at her, offer her gifts and flowers for her and their child.

They often did this to teach Aemon how real the people around him was, so one day he would grow up and keep all they have fought for in its place, be wiser than them when needed, kinder. He saw the little boy and he saw love, he saw their union and their hope. And now a second one will come.

“What name would you give her?” She asked him as he walked to his side of the bed, Aemon was falling asleep and he knew they’ll have him waking them up too early in the morning or he’ll wet the bed.

“If you like, Lyanna.” He answered for her mark was a wolf and his mother was a Stark. “What name would you give her?”

Dany smiled instead, moving her lips in a mocking pout as he sat on the bed. He leaned forward and kissed her lips, her smile widened and she kissed him back, their child fast asleep at his mother’s side.

She laid down on the bed, moving to find her most comfortable spot until she was giving him her back and he covered them three, four, with the sheets, putting an arm around her, his hand resting on her roundness. He usually had the chance to feel their child moving inside her, and tonight he hoped would be the case again.

“Lyanna would be.” She answered.

“And what if we have another boy?”

“We’ll call him Robb.” She answered turning her face sightly to look at his eyes, her nose touching his.

“Robb?”

“I know you want a son named Robb, like your brother.” She answered, so long ago he had told her about that, when they thought the war was over and they would die in the cold, fighting the dead.

But they were here now, and she had giving him a beautiful and healthy boy, and their second would be as wonderful, whatever name it got.

Jon smiled, kissing her face as she closed her eyes.

“I do.” He answered. His hand moved from her belly and he caressed Aemon’s little cheek, hoping he would sleep peacefully. “Have you seen his mark?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “What do you think it is?”

“Happiness, hopefully.”

Dany smiled at him, happy as ever, welcoming his kiss when he leaned to her. She had been engraved on his skin since he had been a babe, and for the longest time, he never thought they would find each other.

Hopefully, their sons and daughters would find their own one day, marked or not.

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Day 7, free day. Will be a surprise. Also, I'll be posting day 5 soon!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Maybe I'll see you at [my tumblr](http://anythingforyoudoll.tumblr.com/)? Have a good day!
> 
> EDIT: I corrected some errors the story had, some awkward wording and dialogues. I'm sorry for those who had to read it before that!


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